ATLA: Azlua

Phoenix city part three

"Thanks!" Ty Lee called out, flashing a quick smile before somersaulting toward another rebel.

Within minutes, the fight was over. The rebels lay scattered across the street, groaning in pain or too stunned to move. Ty Lee stood amidst the aftermath, her breath coming in short gasps as she surveyed the scene. Zira lowered her blade, her flames extinguishing as she turned to Ty Lee.

"You okay?" Zira asked, her tone brisk but concerned.

Ty Lee nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Yeah. You?"

"Always," Zira replied, but her eyes flicked to the rebels. "What do we do with them?"

Before Ty Lee could answer, Zira raised her hand and fired a burst of flame into the sky. The signal lit up the darkening streets, and within moments, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the air. A squad of Fire Nation guards arrived, their armor clinking as they surrounded the rebels.

The guards wasted no time. They grabbed the rebels roughly, yanking them to their feet and binding their hands with coarse rope. One guard shoved a young rebel forward, causing him to stumble and cry out in pain.

"Hey!" Ty Lee's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. The guards froze, turning to her with startled expressions. She stepped forward, her normally cheerful demeanor replaced with a firm resolve.

"Ease up," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I know it isn't easy. These people have hurt others, maybe even people you care about. But remember—the war is over. We're supposed to be better than this."

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, their hands loosening slightly on the rebels. "Yes, Overseer," one of them muttered reluctantly.

Ty Lee nodded, but her heart sank as she saw the hatred lingering in their eyes. This wasn't just about the rebels—it was about the deep divide that still existed between the Fire Nation and the people they had conquered. She realized then that her job wasn't just to rebuild the city's infrastructure; it was to rebuild trust. And that was a much harder task.

As the guards escorted the rebels away, Ty Lee stood silently, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Zira stepped beside her, her gaze steady.

"You did the right thing," Zira said quietly.

"Did I?" Ty Lee replied, her voice heavy with doubt. "I can stop them from being rough, but I can't change what's in their hearts. Not yet."

Zira placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "One step at a time. You've already done more than most people would."

Ty Lee smiled faintly, though her thoughts remained troubled. As they turned to leave, she glanced back at the rebels being led away. This city had been broken in so many ways, and fixing it would take more than promises and policies. It would take patience, understanding, and a willingness to face the hatred head-on.

And Ty Lee was determined to see it through.

--

Ty Lee sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, her hands cradling a cup of lukewarm tea she had long forgotten to drink. The faint moonlight poured through the window, silvering the modest furnishings of her room in Phoenix City. The air was still, heavy with the weight of her thoughts. The day had been exhausting, but sleep felt like a distant hope.

Setting the cup on the bedside table, her gaze drifted to the mirror hanging on the far wall. Its polished surface reflected the dim light, casting a faint silhouette of her figure. Slowly, she stood and walked toward it, her bare feet soundless against the cool stone floor. The mirror's frame was simple, unadorned, a practical fixture rather than a luxury.

Her reflection met her with tired eyes. The scar that ran down her left eye stood out prominently, its uneven texture catching the pale light. She reached up, her fingers brushing against it lightly. The skin was rougher there, a stark contrast to the smoothness of her face. It had been months since that day—since the last moments of the war, when she had thrown everything she had into Azula's vision.

The memory of King Bumi's final moments resurfaced, unbidden and unwelcome. She had fought him with everything she had, and though her agility and chi-blocking gave her an edge, it had been no easy battle. He was strong, determined, and relentless. The fight had left her battered, and when his earthbending sent a jagged rock slicing across her face, she had barely flinched. All that mattered then was winning—for Azula, for the Fire Nation.

And she had won. But at what cost?

Her fingers lingered on the scar, tracing its length. It was a mark of her dedication, her willingness to give everything for Azula. In some ways, she liked it. It made her stand out, made her feel different, as though she carried proof of her loyalty etched into her skin. Yet, a part of her wondered—had it made her uglier? The thought was fleeting but insistent, a whisper in the back of her mind that refused to be silenced.

"Why can't I just see it as something beautiful?" she murmured, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

She stepped closer to the mirror, tilting her head slightly as she examined the scar. It wasn't grotesque, but it was unmistakable. She had seen the way people's eyes flicked to it when they spoke to her, the way some of the younger soldiers whispered about it when they thought she couldn't hear. It made her feel... complicated. Both proud and self-conscious.

Her thoughts turned to Azula. She remembered the Fire Lord's reaction when she had first seen the scar. Azula hadn't flinched or commented on its appearance; instead, she had simply said, "A mark of your resolve. Wear it well." It was a rare moment of sincerity from Azula, one that Ty Lee had clung to. But even that validation couldn't entirely erase her doubts.

"I have to be more," she whispered to her reflection. "More than this scar. More than the girl who stood behind her."

Her hand dropped from her face, and she squared her shoulders, staring at the determined expression looking back at her. Phoenix City was a mess, a tangled web of rebellion, distrust, and oppression. But Ty Lee wasn't the kind of person to back down from a challenge—not when people were counting on her.

She took a step back from the mirror, her fingers brushing against the silver bell on her desk. Its chime was soft, clear, and purposeful—a small reminder of Zira's faith in her. She thought of Zira's steady presence, Kaida's sharp pragmatism, and even the skepticism of the rebels she had met earlier. Each of them represented a piece of the puzzle she was trying to solve.

But most of all, she thought of Azula. Ty Lee had followed Azula out of loyalty, out of friendship, out of a belief that Azula's vision could bring order to a fractured world. Yet now, standing in Phoenix City, she realized she wanted something more. She didn't just want to follow Azula—she wanted to stand beside her. To be someone Azula could rely on, not just for her skills, but for her strength of character.

She clenched her fists, a spark of determination flaring in her chest. "I'll prove it," she said firmly, her voice carrying more conviction now. "I'll prove that I deserve to stand by her side. Not because of what I've done, but because of what I can do."

Her gaze flicked to the scar one last time. It was still there, still the same, but it no longer felt as heavy. It wasn't just a reminder of what she had sacrificed; it was a symbol of what she had survived.

Ty Lee returned to the bed, pulling the covers around her as she settled in. The city outside was quiet now, the soft glow of lanterns dotting the streets like scattered stars. She closed her eyes, letting her mind drift to the people she had met that day—the workers, the rebels, even the skeptical guards. There was so much work to do, so many hearts and minds to reach.

But as sleep began to claim her, she felt a small flicker of hope. Phoenix City wasn't beyond saving. It would take time, patience, and a willingness to see past the scars—both hers and the city's. And if she could do that, then maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something better.